


Mt. Flannel

by AlexiaRexia, TheSSClexa



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Cabin AU, Camping, Clexa, Clexaweek2019, Day 3, F/F, Hiking, Lexas Fucking abs, Modern AU, NavySEAL!Lexa, Photojournalist!Clarke, everything Clarke Griffin hates, klutz!clarke, no chill, one bed, outdoors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2019-11-06 17:09:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17943770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaRexia/pseuds/AlexiaRexia, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSSClexa/pseuds/TheSSClexa
Summary: It’s Clarke's first time camping and somehow she let Raven drag her out into the woods to camp, hike and do ourdoor thing-sies. Except, Clarke is a true klutz and the mountain, forest, and trails are her enemy. Everything is going to suck—until she meets Anya’s cousin, Lexa.ORThe one where neither have any chill. Like none whatsoever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings beautiful people! AlexiaRexia and I have paired together to bring you this! Please enjoy as it has been months in the making!

“What do you mean there’s not going to be electricity, Raven?” Clarke asked as the car rattled along the remote dirt path as they climbed higher and higher in elevation, Raven in the driver’s seat. “You said we’re staying in a nice cabin instead of a tent. How am I going to charge my phone? I only have thirty-two percent battery!”

 

Clarke was beginning to panic as she fumbled in the glove compartment of Raven’s 4x4. She knew she had a car charger in there somewhere, swearing under her breath when she couldn’t locate it. Not only had Raven twisted her arm to go on a camping trip that she had no desire to experience, only managing to sell the idea with the promise that it would be in a ‘shelter cabin.’ Clarke was not a fan of nature to begin with. There were animals, wild things that could attack you and worst yet, bugs as Clarke claimed a mild degree of arachnophobia. Being a person born without grace, Clarke also hated hiking in fear of falling, twisting an ankle, or otherwise bodily injury from lack of overall coordination. Thus, rendering this experience as Clarke’s first-time 'camping.’ 

 

“We’re out here to enjoy nature for the weekend, Clarke. It won’t kill you to unplug,” Raven replied, effortlessly guiding the car along the sad excuse for a driveway. 

 

“What do you mean it won’t kill me to unplug, it’s half my job!” 

 

As a photojournalist, managing her social media accounts was precisely half her job. 

 

“Thirty-two percent isn’t even going to get me through the night, Rae!” Clarke quickly opened the phone settings to place it on low-battery mode. “How am I supposed to stay updated on Twitter, post all my camping pictures on Insta, Snap everybody back in the city, and read through my Tumblr feed?” She realized how petty that all sounded, but her income really did rely a lot on her social media presence. She had several sponsorships that required a minimum amount of posts in a certain period of time. 

 

Raven rolled her eyes. “Well, I guess we’ll have to find out, won’t we Princess?” 

 

“Raven! This isn’t funny. Three days without electricity, what am I supposed to do?”

 

“We’re going hiking. Possibly fishing. Make a fire. You know—camping things.”

 

“Rae…” Clarke whined. “You know how I feel about hiking. There are bugs and shit.”

 

“Fine, then stay in the cabin by yourself while we go exploring. Supposed to be a sweet waterfall nearby. Plus, Anya is bringing her cousin, you’ll have someone new to interact with. You always like meeting new people.”

 

This was true. Clarke’s friends were everything to her—hence all the social media to remain in touch. Clarke thrived on people, yet another reason camping was not her forte; she wasn’t excited about the isolation aspect. 

 

“Uggh… what was her name again, Alexa?”

 

“Just Lexa.”

 

“Have you met her before?”

 

“No, but Anya always talks about her. I heard she was really nice, and from the photos I’ve seen, really hot.” Raven then tipped in closer, eyes still on the roadway as they slowly made their way farther and farther into isolation. “And super gay.” And closer. “And super single.” She wagged her eyebrows suggestively, a grin on her lips.

 

Clarke swatted at the air. “Stop that Rae, I’m not looking for anything. I’m fine being single. I  _ love _ being single.” 

 

That was a lie. It had been months since Clarke broke up with her cheating ex, and even longer since she’d last had sex. 

 

“Okay…” Raven trailed. “Just trying to help a girl out.”

 

A few beats of silence passed and Clarke admitted to herself that she was actually a bit curious about Anya’s cousin. “What does she do?” Clarke asked, pretending to ask as if she were simply humoring Raven. “Lexa, I mean.”

 

“Um… military something, I think she just got back from being deployed—or just got out? I dunno, you should ask her,” Raven said. 

 

The car continued to bump along the unpaved road into the depths of the forest. Service was shoddy as fuck and Clarke considered switching to airplane mode altogether to try and save some juice. It was late winter, leftover snow crusted along the roadside, going through a cycle of melt and refreeze as temperatures reached a high of 50’s during the day but dipped back below freezing at night. 

 

“Wait! Raven, if there’s no electricity, how are we not going to freeze our asses off? I only brought this throw!” Clarke holds up a thin blanket she brought from home that usually served as a casual throw for her couch.

 

“Relax, Princess. There’s a propane tank out back that fuels a furnace, a stove, and hot water.”

 

Relief flooded Clarke’s veins. “Oh thank  _ god _ .” Clarke was eternally grateful for hot water. “I would die without the ability to shower.”

 

“More like we would die from your stench, Griffin.”

 

Clarke glared at her supposed best friend. “All the more reason to make sure there’s hot water,” she said. Just then, a small building came into view. “Wait, that’s the cabin?! It’s a shack, Rae.”

 

Raven laughed. “It’s a perfectly suitable shelter,” she said. “Would you rather a few tents?” 

 

Clarke grunted. “No,” she said. She took note of another car parked beside the cabin/shack. “Oh, they’re here already?” 

 

Raven nodded as she put the car in park and shut off the engine. “Yeah, they came out last night to make sure the cabin was all nice and spruced up for you, city girl.”

 

“Shack,” Clarke muttered under her breath. She shoved open the door and jumped out of the vehicle. She winced when her boots hit the ground, sloshing mud onto her jeans. The ground had defrosted, leaving a thick, clogging mess to walk on. “Dammit,” she sighed. 

 

“It’s just mud, Griff,” Raven said as she rounded the back of the car. 

 

“These are the only pair I brought,” Clarke said, stooping down to attempt to wipe the mud off her pants. 

 

“Really?” Raven said, hefting out a large suitcase from the trunk. She set it down on the rocky path, not caring if it landed in mud. “This enormous suitcase you packed for  _ three days _ and you don’t have another pair of those impossibly tight skinny jeans in here? I hope you’re not planning on wearing those thin skater dresses you gravitate to. You’ll freeze your ass off, and with an ass as perfect as yours, that’s a crime against humanity.”

 

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Yes, Raven, I’m not a  _ complete _ idiot, thank you,” she said. “I brought leggings—mostly leggings. Fleece-lined and all.”

 

Raven was about to say something when a voice interrupted them. “Should I be concerned that my fianceé is commenting on how perfect another woman’s ass is?” 

 

“Ahn!” Raven outstretched her arms to embrace her fiancée, planting a kiss on her lips before parting. 

 

“Hey, Clarke,” Anya nodded in Clarke’s direction and Clarke raised her eyebrows in causal return. “Welcome to Flanel Mountain.”

 

“You mean Mt. Flannel,” Raven interjected with a snicker. “Where all the lesbians converge to plan the next item on the gay agenda. On this year’s ballot: which takes precedence? Veganism or Birkenstocks?”

 

Clarke rolled her eyes but grinned. Anya snorted. “Nice stereotyping there,” she said. “You’ll never take away my meat, nor will you find me in a pair of those hideous shoes, thank you very much.” 

 

Clarke stifled a laugh, knowing full well that Raven owned not one but three pairs of Birkenstocks. She and Anya haven’t always gotten along, but over the past couple of years, she had warmed up to the woman her best friend loved. To Clarke, Anya was always bit too rigid. Difficult to amuse and routinely spoke in clipped sarcastic comments that always had Clarke guessing whether she was pissed off or just joking. At times, it puzzled Clarke how Anya and Raven were together. Then again, they complimented each other perfectly and went toe-to-toe in terms of wit and sass. 

 

Because of this impression she held of Anya, Clarke was skeptical about meeting her cousin.  _ Her drop-dead  _ gorgeous _ cousin _ , Clarke thought as her eyes landed on the source of soft footfalls making their way around the edge of the cabin. 

 

All of the air escaped Clarke’s lungs while watching the brunette approach, clothed in a light green button-up flannel, jeans, and scuffed boots. Only missing an ax in hand, she was someone directly out of an outdoor magazine, advertising everything she was wearing in functional appearance. 

 

“Hi, Raven, I assume, unless my cousin’s grown a habit of kissing strangers?” Lexa said and extended a hand to greet Raven. 

 

Raven chuckled, shaking Lexa’s hand while Clarke stood, stupefied, watching in pure amazement until Lexa turned and their eyes locked. The intimacy of moment passed in a single blink when Lexa stepped forward in casual ease, extending hand along with  _ a warm _ and inviting smile. “Hi, you must be Clarke?”

 

A moment too long stretches when Clarke realized she was supposed to shake Lexa’s hand, creating an awkward pause. 

 

“Oh—uh, hi,” Clarke muttered, stepping forward to receive Lexa’s handshake. 

 

Except, in this exact moment, Clarke’s clumsiness captured the very best of her as she tripped on her own heel and propelled her body in a devastating fall. Clarke only had a split second to ponder the consequences, likely another addition to Raven’s jokes that start with, “Remember the time Clarke—” Recovery, both literally and figuratively, will not be easy. 

 

Clarke looked at the mud that’s about to greet her face when she was caught. Halting her plummet toward Earth was Lexa. Specifically, Lexa’s hands. On her breasts. One palm per boob. 

 

_ Oh. My. Fucking. God.  _

 

Time slowed to a pause, snapshotting it like a photo in frame. They were cheek-to-cheek and Clarke could smell the chestnut off Lexa’s hair, feel the warmth radiate from her body and the strength in her embrace. Clarke liked it, a lot. And admittedly, Clarke wanted more and wondered if Lexa was going sneak in a squeeze. But Lexa, being the gentlewoman Clarke would soon learn that she was, did no such thing. Rather, Lexa cautiously tipped her momentum inward to help Clarke regain her balance. 

 

“Uh… sssorry,” Lexa murmured, wincing slightly and quickly withdrew her hands. “Are you okay?”

 

Before Clarke could answer, Raven shouted with unbridled laughter. “Holy shit, Griff, let the woman buy you a drink first!”

 

“Jesus, Rae,” Clarke muttered and half-rolled her eyes, but remained facing Lexa. “Yes, I’m fine.  _ Thank you. _ Uh—” Clarke extended her hand. “Should we try this again?”

 

Nodding, Lexa clasped her hand. “Although… I might have to agree with Raven.”

 

The comment produced a fast rush of blood up Clarke’s neck and filled her cheeks. In her uncharacteristic bashfulness, Clarke pursed her lips together and looked down, unable to control her threatening smile as she stared at their joined hands. Lexa’s hand was surprisingly soft, yet Clarke could feel the strength of the muscles. Her long fingers captivated Clarke, making her wonder what they would feel like—

 

“Yo, Princess!” 

 

Clarke inhaled sharply as she was pulled out of her not-so-tame thought of Lexa’s long fingers by Raven’s amused voice. “Huh?” she said, looking around and turning even redder when she realized she’d been holding onto Lexa’s hand way longer than necessary. “Right,” she said, pulling her hand back and sliding it into her back pocket. “Um, still dazed from my near fall.” Yeah, that sounded legitimate. 

 

Clarke could tell Raven didn’t buy her bullshit one bit, but she was glad when her best friend didn’t say anything more for the time being. “Whatever, Griffin,” Raven said. “Let’s get inside, that drive was hell.”

 

“It was two hours,” Anya countered, confused. 

 

Raven grinned. “Not the point,” she said. “Don’t you want to help me relieve the tension from that long,  _ grueling _ drive?” 

 

Clarke rolled her eyes as Raven pulled her  fiancée inside the cabin ( _ shack _ ). A thought suddenly occurred to her. “There are separate rooms, right?” she asked, eyes widening at the thought of having to sleep in the same room with the handsy couple. No way would Raven make it four days without sex. 

 

Lexa chuckled. “There’s the main room, master bedroom, and a lofted sleeping area,” she said. “Anya already claimed the separate bedroom for them.”

 

Clarke nodded. “Yeah, no, I’m not complaining. I’ve lived with Raven for five years. She’s  _ loud _ .” 

 

Lexa laughed as she cordially reached for Clarke’s suitcase.

 

“Oh, I can get that,” Clarke said, reaching for the handle. 

 

“I got it,” Lexa insisted with a kind smile, hoisting the heavy suitcase up the stairs leading to the front door with practiced ease. Clarke expected Lexa to make a comment on how heavy the bag was for such a short trip, but she was grateful when she just stepped aside and waited for Clarke to enter the cabin ahead of her without saying a word. 

 

‘Rustic’ was definitely an apt description of the structure interior. The main room was little more than a pair of worn loveseats (not even full-sized couches) and a coffee table made from reclaimed wood. There was, as Raven had said, a furnace in the corner of the room, a kitchenette comprised of a single-basin sink and a countertop with a lone propane-powered hot plate. The opposite was a narrow, steep set of stairs that led to what Clarke assumed was the lofted sleeping area. She was grateful to see that the loft had at least a curtain running across the width of the railing, offering a small sense of privacy. The communal shower faired similarly, concealed only by a flimsy curtain enclosing a small space with what can only be described as open copper piping affixed to the wall. Thankfully, the outhouse was only twenty feet down a short gravel path. 

 

“So, does one of the couches down here pull out, or…?” Clarke said, wondering where she’d be sleeping. She assumed Lexa had already claimed the loft from the day before. 

 

Lexa gave her a curious look. “No,” she said. “There’s a sleeping pad up on the loft. It’s pretty big, queen sized, I think. I hope that’s okay?” 

 

“Oh,” Clarke said. “Right. Sure. Okay. That’s… awesome.” Fuck. It was both a blessing and a curse, Clarke would have to share a very tight space—share a  _ bed _ —with this goddess of a woman. She swallowed hard, willing her heart rate to calm and her breathing to even out. She tried to joke her way out of her rising arousal and said, “I hope you don’t snore,” followed by an awkward laugh. 

 

“Don’t worry—as a Navy SEAL, I won’t be making a sound, so rest assured.”

 

“Oh my God, you’re a Navy  _ SEAL _ ?” Clarke’s jaw fell agape. Though her military knowledge was limited, it was general knowledge that the title of a SEAL was hard earned. Clarke briefly recalled skimming news articles not more than a few years ago reporting on the first females allowed into the program. And Lexa could easily be one of those legendary women, here, standing before her. 

 

“Mhm-hm,” Lexa nodded. “Just got back from deployment,” Lexa said, casual and easy. And way too humble of an attitude for Clarke’s liking. 

 

“That’s amazing!” Clarke couldn’t contain her excitement, fixated on the “war hero” aspect and immediately shifted to work-mode. “I’m a journalist for the  _ Arkadian _ , could I do a story on you?”

 

Grimacing, Lexa shook her head as politely as possible. “No, thank you. I’m not really one for the limelight, just doing my duty.” 

 

“Oh…” Clarke’s enthusiasm quickly deflated as she registered the words from Lexa, but nevertheless, respected Lexa’s reasoning and pushed no further. 

 

Climbing the narrow stairs, the ceiling of the loft sloped considerably with a protruding main beam, and where Lexa ducked, Clarke failed to do so, whacking the top of her head with an audible  _ thump _ as they arrived on the top step. 

 

“Ow! Ssss…” Clarke gripped the top of her head. It was already embarrassing enough to literally fall into the arms of Lexa minutes ago, and now this. Clarke swore the universe was against her. 

 

“Are you okay?” Lexa turned, abandoning the suitcase to check Clarke’s head. Caring hands reached out and brushed through Clarke’s hair and Clarke thought she might swoon. The sheer proximity to Lexa had her weak at the knees, inhaling a waft of Lexa’s warm scent, which dizzied her to the tipping point. 

 

“Whoa.” Clarke lost balance and Lexa caught her (again) though much more appropriately this time with arms around Clarke’s waist. 

 

“Clarke?”

 

“I’m okay, I’m okay, I swear,” Clarke replied, but betrayed by her own actions as her hands found purchase around Lexa’s shoulders and clung, tight. 

 

“Are you sure? Here, why don’t you sit down.” Gently, Lexa guided her down to sit at the foot of the mattress and rubbed soothing circles across Clarke’s back. “Better?”

 

God, Lexa was  _ sweet _ . The short span of attention Clarke received from Lexa had her melting, she was usually accustomed to being laughed at by her friends for her persistent clumsiness. Hitting her head was no surprise and she expected to be left alone to tend to herself. 

 

“Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks.”

 

Lexa brushed another strand of blonde from Clarke’s eyes but peered past to examine the top of Clarke’s head. “There’s a small bump, but I don’t see any laceration.” 

 

“Laceration? That’s very… technical of you,” Clarke replied, recalling terminology she’d only heard from her mother, an ER doctor. “You a doctor or something?”

 

“No… but we are trained—extensively—in field first aid,” Lexa replied. 

 

“Oh, right…”

 

A beat of silence passed and when Clarke looked up, she found herself fixated on Lexa’s eyes. Large, round, emerald eyes that captured Clarke, drew her deeper than the forest they’d driven into. The feeling was unmistakable. Clarke would hate for Raven to be right, not only was Anya’s cousin incredibly attractive, but seemingly meant for Clarke and right now, she wanted nothing other than to curl her fingers around the nape of Lexa’s neck and press her mouth against those lips.

 

“Clarke…?” Lexa snapped her fingers. Once, twice. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

 

“Huh? Yeah... yeah,” Clarke responded. “I’m fine.”

 

“Pupils seem a bit dilated... can you focus on me?”

 

_ Oh trust me, I am.  _

 

“Do you have any history of concussions?” Lexa continued, cupping the underside of Clarke’s jaw and drawing blue eyes to green. 

 

“No—no. I mean, I’m used to hitting my head, a lot, but no concussions. I assure you, I’m fine. My mom’s a doctor,” Clarke said, bumbling through Lexa’s caring touches. 

 

“Hey, Lex!” They’re interrupted by Anya shouting from downstairs. “Stop flirting and finish gathering wood for tonight!”

 

All too quickly did Lexa withdraw her hands and Clarke swore she caught a faint blush of color on Lexa’s cheeks. Lexa must be a master at controlling her emotions because the pink hue disappeared within a blink and Lexa was getting up, distancing herself from a simple situation that seemed to have evolved beyond both their expectations. 

 

“I’ll let you get settled,” Lexa said. “You’re coming on the hike, right?” 

 

_ I am now.  _

 

“Yeah, I’ll be right down,” Clarke replied. 

 

Unzipping her suitcase, Clarke dug through for a pair of leggings to change into, ditching her now mud-stained jeans and retrieving a pair of running shoes—even though Clarke wasn’t a runner, has never been, and probably wouldn’t even if being chased. She’d stop, drop, and play dead. That’s how much confidence she had in her athleticism. And coordination, apparently. 

 

“Why am I going on this hike…?” Clarke muttered to herself. She had already half-fallen and bumped her head in front of Lexa. Going on this hike was asking a lot of the universe but Clarke ignored the high possibility of injury because, admittedly, she didn’t want to miss a second of Lexa. Not only was Lexa, well, ‘hot af,’ but Clarke felt a different draw to her. Perhaps it was the allure of what Lexa had seen—had done—the amount of death her occupation entailed. The mission, war, and duty. Clarke badly wanted to write an article on her but at the same time, wanted to know more for herself. Who or what inspired Lexa to become a SEAL? What was the training like and was she treated differently than the men? 

 

After changing, Clarke eyed her camera packed safely in the corner of her suitcase within its own case. A Nikon S850 DSLR. She’d anticipated using it for naturesque shots—towering trees, endless forest, beautiful waterfalls, and wildlife, and possibly blog about her first ‘camping’ experience, but Lexa had come into focus instead. Overshadowed everything else and just like that, Clarke snatched her camera and slug it around her neck. Learning from her mistake earlier, Clarke ducked under the beam at the top of the stairwell before proceeding downstairs and outside. 

 

“Ready, Princess?”

 

“Ready,” Clarke replied and planted her arms at her hips, posing as if she were supergirl about to take on the world. Except she was Clarke, about to embark on in a physical activity. In nature. A true recipe for disaster if she ever heard of one. “And lord help me.” 

 

“And you’re going with  _ that _ ?” Raven eyed the large camera dangling at Clarke’s stomach. 

 

“That’s why I have this,” Clarke replied and tugged on the neck strap, proud and cheerful. “Plus, didn't you mention a waterfall? I thought it’d be a good photo opportunity.” And just as Clarke said it, Lexa emerged from the trees with an armload of firewood—a lot of firewood—and the added exertion left an attractive gleam of sweat on her skin. It ran down her neck and chest, exposed where Lexa had unbuttoned her flannel for some air. Clarke wanted to take a thousand pictures.

 

/

 

The ground was slippery; the roots were slippery; the rocks were slippery. And Clarke was no longer worried about the dirt staining but solely focused on maintaining her balance. Raven and Anya walked in front of her while, after Clarke’s third slip, Lexa volunteered to round up the back, no doubt ready to catch her at a moment’s notice. It was both comforting and embarrassing. 

 

What started out as a wide and flat path began to narrow and wind as they ventured further. The hillside also began to slope and Clarke’s lungs started to burn, inhaling large gulps of cool air that weren’t enough. 

 

“Hey guys, how about a water break?” Lexa suggested. 

 

Lexa must have heard her sucking air—or saw how much her body was heaving for it because  _ thank fucking god.  _ Clarke immediately sat on a downed tree, slumping as she took her backpack off to retrieve her water. While she wiped the moisture from her brow, she noticed that Lexa hardly broke a sweat, completely cooled down from gathering wood earlier. Not needing water, Lexa waited patiently, paced slightly off trail and stared into the thick of the trees, clearly off in a different place. 

 

There’s something about nature that puts a mind deep into thought and Lexa was there, now. Kicking at a root with hands pocketed, a somber look on her face. Slowly, Clarke unclipped the lens cover from her camera, raised it to her eye, and clicked. Panning, she took a few of Anya and Raven, the landscape and trees as well, but ultimately returned to Lexa. Lexa was perfect, from her posture to the way her hair cascaded over her shoulders. Could do nothing different if Clarke were managing a model in a photo shoot. 

 

They resumed along the trail soon after Clarke caught her breath and to her surprise, the hike was nice. The air crisp and green glow of the forest filled her eyes. She could hear water in distance, evidence of the nearby river that Raven had mentioned on the drive up. Sunlight slotted through the canopy layer like beams of gold and Clarke founder herself taking picture after picture until the sound of water filled her ears. Roaring, whooshing, and splashing. They rounded a narrow corner, where Lexa’s guiding hand at the small of her back didn’t go unnoticed, and an enormous waterfall revealed itself. 

 

“Whoa…” Clarke exhaled. 

 

It was fantastic. The fall of icy cold water tumbled into a pool and if it were summer, Clarke would be in it. The notion to stop, sit, and admire went unsaid throughout the group. And while Anya and Raven found themselves a flat rock to snuggle on, Clarke wandered to take more pictures from various angles. Wandered towards the base of the falls for an angled shot upwards. 

 

“Get anything good?” Lexa asked, and closed the distance between them. Stepped closer to Clarke and politely peaked over her shoulder at the camera screen. 

 

“Oh, um. Some.” Eager to share—to bring Lexa closer—Clarke tilted her screen in Lexa’s direction but was constrained by the neck strap. Maybe she wasn’t thinking, actually, she knew she wasn’t thinking when Clarke casually slipped it off to show Lexa some of her pictures. And, it was perfecting timing for misfortune to strike when Clarke shifted her weight onto that slimy, algae-coated rock, ankle twisting and she tossed her camera into the air in her sudden loss of balance. 

 

Fortunately, Lexa was there, ready to catch her but Clarke eyed her precious camera, airborne over the water. 

 

“Oh no! Save the camera!”

 

Obeying Clarke’s wish, Lexa dove and caught the camera before it hit the water, kept it raised over her head while the rest of Lexa was drenched in an icy cold bath. 

 

“Oh, God Lexa! I’m so sorry!” Clarke shouted as Lexa waded the few feet back to shore, Clarke’s dry camera in hand. 

 

Raven and Anya had since scurried over, Raven helping Clarke up and Anya, Lexa. 

 

“Is everybody okay?” Raven asked. 

 

Clarke was about to nod until she put weight on the ankle that caused her downfall. “Ow—wait, Rae. My ankle.” Using Raven as a crutch, Clarke gingerly placed her foot down again only to receive a shooting pain spring up her entire leg. “Ow, ow. Fuck, that hurts.” 

 

“Let me see,” Lexa pushed forward, uncaring that she was soaking wet from the frigid water. She handed Clarke’s camera to Anya, then knelt down on the ground and gently took Clarke’s calf in her hand. She tugged up the material of her leggings and carefully inspected the smooth, pale skin of her ankle while Clarke steadied herself on Raven’s shoulder. She tried not to hiss as Lexa prodded the flesh, but she let out a gasp of pain as she hit a particularly sensitive spot just below her outer ankle bone. 

 

“Shit,” Clarke hissed. 

 

“Sorry,” Lexa said, glancing up at her with a slight wince. “It’s not broken, but you definitely have a sprain. We should get you back and ice it immediately before it swells too much.” 

 

Clarke groaned. “I can’t believe this,” she muttered, hopping slightly on her good foot.

 

“I can,” Raven said. “We’ve been here all of an hour and you’ve already tripped over air, nearly gotten a concussion, and sprained your ankle. That’s a new record for you, Princess. And just as the hike was getting good, too. We didn’t even get to explore the cave on the other side of the hill.” 

 

“Raven, I swear to god, if you don’t shut the fu—”

 

“Oookay,” Anya interrupted, taking charge. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Raven, you and I will go explore the cave while Lexa will help Clarke back to the cabin to get some ice on that ankle.”

 

Clarke looked down at Lexa, who was still crouched down on her haunches, with a guilty expression. “You don’t have to,” she said. “I hate to make you miss the cave. I can wait here while you all go explore. I can take pictures. Or something.” 

 

Lexa shrugged and finally stood. It was then that Clarke remembered that she’d taken her own tumble. Into the water. The very, very cold water. Oh. She tried not to stare, she really did, but Lexa’s choice of hiking shirt and sports bra didn’t leave much to the imagination when soaking wet. 

 

“Clarke!” 

 

Clarke blinked, rounding her head to look at Raven who was staring at her with equal parts amusement and annoyance. Whatever. “What?” she asked. 

 

Raven let out an exasperated noise as she muttered something under her breath. 

 

“I said I need to get out of these wet clothes anyway,” Lexa said. Clarke could see a hint of amusement—and was that interest?—in her eyes before she expertly masked her expression. “I don’t mind missing the cave. Not really my thing, anyway. I can help you back.” 

 

“Oh, right,” Clarke said. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.” 

 

After collecting her precious camera from Anya, Clarke allowed Lexa to place her arm around her for support as she hobbled back towards the cabin, leaving Raven and Anya to head to the cave. It was probably for the best, anyway. She didn’t do well in small spaces, so the idea of exploring a cave hadn’t really appealed to her to start with. 

 

“Thank you for saving my camera,” Clarke said as they slowly made their way back to the cabin. “And I’m sorry you got all wet because of me.” Oh, she definitely meant to word it that way. She’d seen that fleeting spark in Lexa’s eyes, after all. 

 

“Oh, uh, it’s fine,” Lexa said, momentarily thrown off by Clarke’s blatant flirting. She was used to coy women being so subtle she usually missed it. That wasn’t the case with Clarke, apparently. “I know those kinds of cameras are expensive.” 

 

Clarke shrugged. “Yeah, they are, but it’s more the images on the camera I’m worried about. I can get a new camera, no problem. The images? Not so much.” They crested a hill and Clarke grimaced. “That’s not going to be fun to hop down,” she said, eyeing the downward slope that was steep even when she had two good ankles. 

 

Lexa studied the hill, biting her lip. Then she sighed. “Get on my back,” she said, moving to stand in front of Clarke. 

 

“Uh, what?” Clarke asked, shocked. “You mean like piggyback?”

 

“Yes,” Lexa said. “It’s the safest way. Otherwise, you might hurt yourself, again.” She smirked back at Clarke as she said the last part. 

 

Clarke groaned in embarrassment at her complete lack of coordination but knew Lexa was right. “Yeah, okay, fine,” she said. She braced her hands on Lexa’s shoulders and prepared to jump. “You sure you can carry me? I’m not exactly tiny.” 

 

Lexa snorted. “Please,” she scoffed. “I’m a Navy SEAL. I should be insulted you think I can’t handle your insignificant weight. I’ve carried two-hundred-pound men in full body gear farther than this. In sand.” 

 

Clarke laughed. “Okay, okay,” she said. She braced herself and jumped off her good foot, immediately swinging her legs up to hook around Lexa’s hips.  _ Oh _ . That felt nice. Her front was pressed against the hard expanse of Lexa’s back. She could feel the rippling muscles beneath her breasts and stomach. And, oh, that was cold! Lexa was still soaking wet from her dip in the river, so Clarke could feel her front becoming drenched. 

 

_ Well, at least I’ll have a good excuse for my nipples that are currently hard as a fucking rock _ , Clarke thought to herself as Lexa began to move at a steady pace down the hillside. 

 

Clarke had to really focus on not gasping aloud with each of Lexa’s steps, the movement causing her own groin to rub against the hard muscle of Lexa’s lower back and, oh  _ dear god _ , the upper part of her ass as well. And she  _ really _ had to focus on not purposely pressing herself against said muscles in an effort to seek relief between her legs. Because she was an unapologetic flirt, sure, but that seemed to cross the invisible line of what was flirting and what could be considered inappropriate. For the moment, at least. 

 

The rest of the walk back to the cabin was pure torture for both parties. Clarke had offered to hobble the rest of the way once they’d descended the hill, but Lexa had made a good point that it would be a lot quicker if she kept carrying her. Clarke didn’t protest and spent the rest of the journey focusing on her breathing and not doing anything wildly inappropriate. Like humping Lexa’s backside to orgasm as they approached the cabin. That would definitely not be cool. 

 

“Here we go,” Lexa said as she stooped to allow Clarke to slide off her back, balancing precariously on one leg. She pushed open the door to the cabin and helped Clarke inside. “How’s the ankle?” 

 

Clarke shrugged, honestly had forgotten about the pain until just then. “It’s alright,” she said, carefully testing her own weight on it. It still hurt, but not as bad as before. She winced anyway. “I’ll definitely be sitting out any more hiking adventures for the duration of this little trip.” 

 

Lexa nodded. “That’s probably best.” Then Clarke watched as a slight flush crept up her cheeks as Lexa refused to look at her. “I, ah, should shower and, um, change,” she said. “You should put something dry on, too.” 

 

“Huh?” Clarke said, confused by Lexa’s last words. 

 

“Your shirt,” Lexa said, still looking anywhere but at her. “It’s, ah, damp.” 

 

Clarke looked down and immediately turned red. Crap! Her shirt! It was white and kind of thin. And her bra was on full display. She should have worn a sports bra like Raven suggested, but she didn’t have any. She’d gone for her a cream-colored lacy number that was normally fine beneath a white t-shirt. But beneath a  _ wet _ t-shirt? Oh, my. Her entire chest was on full display and her nipples were still rock hard and making themselves quite known. Shit. “Oh, right,” she said, awkwardly covering herself. She grinned up at Lexa. “Coldwater.” Sure. It was the water. 

 

“Yeah,” Lexa said. “I’m going to, ah, shower.” She fled to the bathroom, closing the door quickly behind her. 

 

Clarke let out a shaky breath. This woman was seriously going to kill her before the weekend was up. She hadn’t really been into casual flings since her college days ended, but she’d definitely make an exception for Lexa freaking Woods, Navy fucking SEAL. Maybe even more than something casual… 

 

_ No! No thinking about dating your best friend’s cousin who happened to be a badass Navy SEAL. _ That was for sure a recipe for disaster. 

 

Though, even Clarke had to admit that Lexa was totally her type. Strong and silently brooding, intelligent and mysterious. Not to mention really fucking gorgeous. She probably had abs of steel, too. And Clarke was a sucker for nice abs on a lean female form. 

 

Clarke shook her head, snapping herself out of her thoughts as she heard the shower turn on, the old pipes groaning throughout the cabin. She needed to stop thinking about Lexa  _ naked _ and in the shower and change her shirt. Where was her suitcase? Oh, right. In the loft. She eyed the stairs carefully, trying to figure out how she was going to get up them. They were pretty steep, almost more like a ladder than traditional stairs. Maybe she could… yes. She crawled up them on her hands and knees. It worked out well, in fact, she didn’t even have to duck at the beam and she was in the small loft in no time. 

 

She quickly changed her shirt (and bra, noting that it had also gotten quite wet) and slipped into a pair of thick, fleece-lined leggings. Overnight temperatures were going to dip into the thirties and she knew there was no central heating in this cabin-slash-shack. 

 

Getting back down the stairs would prove to be a bigger feat than getting up, so she decided to stay put for the time being. Maybe she could get Lexa to help her down. So she sat on the side of the sleeping pallet that Lexa had already made up, a thick blanket draped over the firm, but not an uncomfortable mattress. Thank god she’d at least thought about blankets. She inspected the sheets below the thick blanket and snorted. Of fucking course Lexa would use flannel sheets. At least they’d be warm underneath. Sharing the warm, soft coziness. Oh boy. 

 

She distracted herself by looking through the photos she’d taken on the hike, a small smile forming on her lips at the several she’d taken of Lexa. One in particular really stood out to her. It was candid, of course, and Lexa hadn’t known she was snapping the picture as she’d stooped down to get a closer look at the fauna. The sunlight peeking through the trees had perfectly highlighted the rich golds in her hair. 

 

Noise from the stairs/ladder pulled Clarke out of her thoughts and she quickly moved to the next photo of some trees to hide the fact that not only had she taken pictures of Lexa, but that she’d been staring very intently at them. She braced herself to come face to face with the woman who was definitely going to occupy her dreams that night. 

 

What she wasn’t prepared for, however, was to come face-to-face with Lexa wearing a towel. And nothing but a towel. 

 

Lexa gave her a sheepish look as she ascended the stairs to stand in the loft. “I forgot clothes,” she said, shrugging. The movement caused the muscles of Lexa’s arms and shoulders to ripple and Clarke felt her stomach knot in desire and anticipation. 

 

“Forgot, right,” Clarke said, grinning cheekily. Might as well make the most of this situation. “Don’t let me stop you.” She leaned back on the bed, bracing herself on her elbows as she stared at Lexa with an intent look on her face. 

 

Lexa raised an eyebrow and, without even hesitating, dropped her towel to the floor. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank @dreamsaremywords times infinite.

Clarke dropped dead. Lexa had called her bluff and it reduced Clarke to a big puddle. Seriously, she was going to have to change her underwear again. Because Lexa was definitely naked in front of her and she was sexier than Clarke had imagined, all long limbs and toned muscles. And Lexa stood there, allowing— _ inviting _ —Clarke to look at her. 

 

Holy shit, this woman was insanely attractive and one-hundred-and-ten percent Clarke’s type. Clarke swallowed hard as she let her eyes drop down along Lexa’s breasts, small but perfect and capped with rosy brown tips that stood at attention. It was a lot warmer in the loft than outside, so Clarke wondered if it was due to the same arousal swirling in her own stomach. 

 

Speaking of stomachs, Lexa’s abs were pure fantasy. Defined, but not overly so, with a slight V-cut that drew Clarke’s eyes farther down that had Clarke salivating at the thought. Clarke choked, hard, and instinctively turned into her elbow to cover the cough. 

 

The corners of her eyes continued to track Lexa across the room, moving too suavely for her decency—or lack thereof—and began to dress. In the brief moments she was turned away, Clarke can’t help but drink her in— long, smooth legs, a graceful arch to a muscular back and a firm, tight ass. Her gaze snapped away when Lexa turned again, but they drew back as if magnetically attracted. Lexa, it seemed, wasn’t even bothered. It was as if they were in the casualties of a locker room; Lexa nonchalantly putting on her clothes though her eyes never seemed to leave Clarke. Observing. Gauging. Teasing. 

 

Clarke said nothing, she couldn’t. Had no idea how to react and sat in silent shock and awe. It wasn’t until Lexa threw on a soft hoodie and began to descend the stairs and said, “Shower’s all yours,” that Clarke registered what had just happened. 

 

Lexa. Naked. In front of her. And Clarke was the most useless bisexual that had ever graced this earth. Lexa’s softer qualities crossed with her toned physique crippled Clarke. Appealed to her like no other and finally, after a few long minutes, Clarke blinked. Closed her jaw. And blinked again. 

 

“Are you coming?” asked Lexa a moment later, so suddenly Clarke about jumped out of her skin. Her face was on fire with the blush exploding across her skin. She didn’t even realize Lexa had lingered, and stood there at the top of the stairs watching her with amusement and a smug curl to her lips. For fuck’s sake. “I’m heading downstairs...are you still trying to catch your tongue, or are you  _ coming?” _

 

Clarke reminded herself to breathe. She was not such a disaster bi, Jesus. Lexa knew _ exactly _ what she was saying, and  _ exactly  _ what her effect on Clarke was. She wasn’t about to let her get away with it.

 

“Not yet,” she said, pleased with how cool and collected she sounded as she managed to get to her feet. She held Lexa’s gaze, slowly arched a brow. “Maybe later.”

 

It was Lexa’s turn to blink this time, and even from across the room Clarke could see the dip of her throat as she swallowed, thickly. With that Lexa nodded and turned to continue down the stairs, and Clarke let out a slow breath in mingled relief and satisfaction. Okay, so she wasn’t entirely out of the game...

 

After the combination of ice and ibuprofen, Clarke’s ankle was doing much better and she was able to make her way downstairs to shower. To call it a ‘shower’ was a severe stretch. It was more like a raw copper pipe sticking out of the wall with a single turn valve that was either scalding hot or icy cold. Scalding hot it was, which of course did nothing to cool the raging inferno pooling in her core. And between her legs. 

 

Drying her hair, Clarke remembered what she’d forgotten: a hair dryer. Fuck. She looked around the cabin ‘bathroom’ without success—they were lucky to even have toilet paper—and twisted her hair into the towel best she could. She emerged as such with the towel on her head, an oversized sweater hanging off one shoulder and comfy leggings with cute, fluffy socks that served better for aesthetics than actual functionality. The cabin was already starting to chill and steam from the bathroom escaped in the common room where, to Clarke’s pleasant surprise, discovered Lexa in the kitchenette. Cooking. 

 

It was the perfect image and Clarke wished she had her camera for another photo. Lexa was wearing yet another flannel in a different variation of green atop her hoodie, chopping salad as a pot of pasta boiled on the small stovetop behind her. Dusk leaked through the skylight window and highlighted Lexa in a perfect warm glow and Clarke melted all over again. Raven and Anya had yet to return and Clarke lent herself a second to fantasize: Lexa, at home, cooking for her after a hot shower followed by a night on the couch affront Netflix. It was so domestic, Clarke wanted to puke. It also didn’t help that for someone who loved food as much as Clarke did (she couldn’t cook for shit), skills of the culinary kind were easily the fastest way to her heart. 

 

And in that moment, Lexa looked up from the cutting board and caught sight of Clarke. A sparkle of awe flashed before green eyes and a smile played at Lexa’s lips, perhaps she had the same domestic vision? Clarke bit her lip and thwarted a grin, this moment somehow more intimate than when Lexa was nude before her (Clarke is  _ not  _ complaining), but with Lexa fully dressed, Clarke was able to muster some composure. 

 

Clarke unraveled her hair from the towel and approached. “Do you need any help, Lexa?” Clarke asked—lied, because she wouldn’t even be able to separate eggs. 

 

“No thanks, it’s pretty basic.” Lexa looked behind her to check on the pot. “Just spaghetti and salad—I hope you’re not gluten-free, or low-carb?” 

 

“Oh god no,  _ love  _ carbs,” Clarke replied. “Bread, pasta, cake… I can  _ always  _ eat.” Okay, maybe she exaggerated that a little too much because Lexa’s eyes gave a curious tell. Flitted down at Clarke’s lips before quickly drawing themselves back up. 

 

Clarke decided to take advantage of the situation, make up for her uselessness earlier, and stepped closer into Lexa’s bubble. “Thanks for cooking, it’s really nice of you.” And reached past Lexa at one of the cut cubes of cucumber, watched intently as Lexa took in a waft of her hair, and Clarke swore she might have gotten Lexa back. Popped a chunk of vegetable in her mouth and chewed, slowly. 

 

Lexa took the bait; released the knife and hands found purchase on Clarke’s waist. Clarke brought her hand up, played at hem along the buttons of Lexa’s shirt before taking grasp, preparing herself for what was sure to happen next. Clarke raised slightly on her tiptoes to close the gap and just as their lips brushed, Raven and Anya came crashing in the front door. Although, Clarke did for a second fear it was the sudden invasion of a bear or mountain lion. In her defense, there was a lot of commotion.

 

Clarke and Lexa split like magnets of the same end. 

 

“No, Ahn, that’s not what I fucking said!” Raven yelled. 

 

“Oh babe, seriously?! C’mon, you’re not actually angry about that, are you?” demanded Anya. 

 

_ Awkward.  _

 

Clarke and Lexa continued to stare at each other in blankness as the engaged couple argued. 

 

“Grrrhhh…” Raven growled, made a beeline for the bedroom and slammed the door. Anya followed suit, rushed in after Raven where they proceeded to squabble behind closed doors. 

 

“Uhh… I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Clarke lightly commented. 

 

Lexa nodded, “Yeah, me too.”

 

As if on cue, the pasta water began to bubble and boil over, drawing Lexa’s immediate attention. She pulled the pot, flipped off the stove, and stirred the adjacent sauce. “Um, dinner’s ready,” Lexa said, seemingly to fill the silence save for the argumentative echos in the next room. 

 

Without word, Clarke and Lexa helped themselves to plates of pasta and salad when Raven and Anya’s situation had clearly transformed from arguing to sex. And judging from the noises, some variation between angry and make-up sex. It was a wooden cabin, and needless to say, the planks were not soundproof. 

 

“Would you like to eat outside?” Lexa suggested. “I know it’s a bit chilly, but I was going to make a fire?”

 

Clarke nodded and together they relocated to the picnic table outside where Clarke felt increasingly stupid for not packing warmer clothes. Fortunately, Lexa had the fire up and going in less than a minute—Clarke’s thoughts wandered to Lexa in the field, surviving in the woods with warpaint across her face. Clearly, Lexa had done this many, many times, and Clarke scooted as close as she could to the fire, placing her butt at the very end of the picnic table. Still, the fire was a bit too far and Clarke decided to just suck it up and eat her dinner. Teeth chattering. 

 

“Are you—warm enough, Clarke?” 

 

“Uh—yeah, I’m totally fine.”

 

Despite Clarke’s answer,Lexa was already shrugging off her flannel and chivalrously draping it over Clarke’s shoulders.  “I don’t believe you, here—” 

 

“Oh, no. I couldn’t—what about you?”

 

Lexa shook her head, dismissive. “I’m fine. I usually run a little warmer anyways.” 

 

To top it all off, Lexa pulled a hat from her pockets, one of those floppy hats with ear flaps, red flannelled and all, and teasingly placed on Clarke’s head.

 

“I—” Clarke was about to protest some more, but both the hat and flannel were cozy and they smelled wonderfully of Lexa. So, she relented and continued with her dinner, catching glimpses of green here-and-there. She enjoyed the way sunset looked through Lexa’s eyes, night blanketing as the orange fire took over. 

 

Naturally, small talk ensued, although they both paid little attention to the words that were being said and spent more time looking into each other’s eyes. After dinner, they moved closer to the fire, sitting with shoulders brushing and when Lexa broke out the s’mores, Clarke claimed love. 

 

“Well, you certainly know a way to a woman’s heart,” Clarke said and waggled her eyebrows. 

 

Lexa smiled, and perhaps blushed, though Clarke couldn’t tell from the glowing orange flames that licked the air in front of them. “How do you like your marshmallow?” Lexa asked while placing the white puff onto a stick. “Rare, medium, or burnt beyond recognition?”

 

Clarke laughed. “None of the above. I like my marshmallow like I do my fried chicken. Golden brown, crispy on the outside and juicy on the inside.” 

 

“Oh,” Lexa tilted her eyebrows. “A perfectionist.”

 

“Hardly—but higher things of importance require higher standards.” As Clarke said it, she couldn’t remember the last time she actually roasted a marshmallow to photogenic perfection. Yes, her cooking skills were  _ that _ bad. And as Lexa handed her a pre-marshmallowed stick, Clarke lowered it  _ in _ the flames where it caught fire in less than a few seconds. 

 

“Oh, shit!” Clarke yanked her flaming marshmallow out and began to swing it furiously to extinguish the flame. 

 

“Clarke, wait—”

 

But it was too late as Clarke’s flaming marshmallow dislodged from the stick and went sailing through air. Clarke covered her eyes, she didn’t want to know what was about to catch fire and also, couldn’t bear the added embarrassment of flicking a ball of fire in front of Lexa. Then, there were only sounds. The cabin door opening. Anya and Raven laughing. Then, screaming.  _ Oh no _ . What if it hit one of the in the face?! 

 

Clarke uncovered her eyes to find Raven stomping the ground by her feet—thank god it didn’t hit either of them in the face. 

 

“Can someone explain to me why there are fireballs being launched at us?” Anya asked with two bowls of spaghetti in hand. 

 

“I’m so sorry!” Clarke exclaimed. “My marshmallow—it caught fire.”

 

“Seriously, Clarke? You could’ve really hurt somebody,” Raven snapped while wiping the bottom of her boot clean of sticky, dirty marshmallow. 

 

“I’m  _ sorry. _ ” Clarke repeated, shoulders slumping. She could only apologize so many times. She was always the klutz, always the butt of everyone's jokes; if a vase broke, it was 100% Clarke, party foul, Clarke, and often dropped everything that was thrown to her from footballs to pens. She was constantly picked last in middle school during sports, and thought she had evaded that position of helplessness since “growing up.” Nope. Until Lexa swooped in with nothing but kindness. 

 

“It’s okay, Clarke,” Lexa said. “Here, you can have mine, and I can make another one.” It drew a small smirk from Clarke and Lexa scooted closer to make room for Anya and Raven, draping a comforting arm around Clarke’s shoulders. This coaxed Clarke’s smirk into a broad smile and she wanted to nestle her face into Lexa’s neck, but settled for tipping her head onto Lexa’s shoulder. 

 

“Well don’t you two look cozy?” Anya smirked. 

 

Without looking in Anya’s direction, Lexa flipped her off with her free hand, maintaining focus on the marshmallow affront. 

 

The night stretched on with s’mores devoured and campfire conversation flowed from childhood memories to today’s news. Raven broke out a flask of whiskey to pass around and the hard liquor trickled into Clarke’s stomach, settling in a warm pool that was already there. She had been pressed against Lexa’s side most of the evening; Lexa would place a hand on her back or around her shoulder, occasionally removing it to tend to the fire and Clarke looked forward to its return. Clarke would lean into the brunette for added warmth and Lexa seemed to smell better and better. Perhaps it was the alcohol, though Clarke didn’t have  _ that _ much, just enough to feel good—to feel brave—and once, dared to nuzzle into Lexa’s neck. 

 

The fire was loud. Raven’s laugh was louder. Anya telling an old story. And Lexa, intent on listening with a smile playing on her lips. But when the tip of Clarke’s nose grazed the bare skin under Lexa’s jawline, Clarke swore a humming moan escaped from Lexa’s throat, and green eyes darted down to take in Clarke and their proximity. Blue eyes sparkled with mischief and feigned innocence. 

 

/

 

The evening progressed with clouds clearing and the cold, late night air took anchor. Paired with their dwindling firewood, this signaled the end of the evening and the four women retired into the cabin. 

 

Sleepily and somewhat buzzed, Clarke putzed her way upstairs behind Lexa when Lexa turned to remind Clarke of the low support beam. 

 

“Watch your head, Clarke.”

 

“Oh, thanks,” Clarke replied, ducking. She did, in fact, forget about the beam. 

 

Together, they looked at the small sleeping area, a glorified piece of elevated plywood with a thin foam pad seemingly meant for children. Lexa unrolled her flanneled sleeping bag along one side; Clarke hugged her lone couch throw. 

 

“Is that—all you have, Clarke?” 

 

“Uh, yeah… it’s my first time,” admitted Clarke.

 

Lexa shot her a quizzical look. 

 

“Camping!” she quickly added, ignoring the heat creeping up her neck and face. “My first time  _ camping _ .”

 

“Well, you’re not nearly going to be warm enough. Do you want my sleeping bag? I can just throw on an extra sweater.”

 

“Oh, no. I can’t possibly take your sleeping bag.”

 

“Would you be comfortable sharing?”

 

“Would you?”

 

It was a loaded question. Both knowing that sleep was already impossible, but sharing a sleeping bag would guarantee it. 

 

“I don’t mind sharing,” Lexa replied. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have offered. Plus, I can unzip it and use it as a blanket and your throw as the bottom sheet?” 

 

“Oh, yeah, that sounds… nice.”

 

Together, they made the “bed” and crawled underneath the sleeping bag. 

 

It was quiet. It was awkward. Clarke laid on her back with arms and legs straight up and down like a soldier standing at attention. She closed her eyes to force sleep but between the cold air and the distraction of Lexa next to her, she couldn’t and began to shiver. Then, she felt Lexa shift and turn towards her. Warmth radiating. 

 

“Clarke? Are you cold?” 

 

“Um…” Clarke looked her left and caught sight of Lexa’s pretty green eyes. “Just a little.” 

 

“Do you… want to snuggle?”

 

Clarke turned as she nodded, curling in Lexa’s direction and scooted inward. Lexa’s arms wrapped around her in pure coziness and she tucked her head underneath Lexa’s chin. 

 

“Better?” Lexa murmured into her hair. 

 

Clarke nodded again, and Lexa began to rub her back in circles to generate some more heat. 

 

“Mmm…” Clarke hummed. “Feels nice.” She squished close, felt the strength in Lexa’s body and embrace. The small movements never stopped; they were cuddling, hard. Hands started to roam, both their hands. From the waist to the hips, around back, shoulders and arms. Fingers linked and threaded through hair. 

 

Clarke would normally second guess herself, but from the way Lexa was touching her, Lexa was into her just as much as she was Lexa. That this perfect specimen of a human was grabbing Clarke’s ass by the handfuls. Clarke’s face was comfortably nestled in the crook of Lexa’s neck where she dropped her first kiss against a warm pulse. Then another. And another. Lexa made a quiet groan, then murmured, “C’mere.”

 

She cupped Clarke’s jaw and brought her lips up to hers. Soft and pillowy lips brushed against Clarke’s and it warmed her beyond any campfire. Contrast to Lexa’s strong and hard physique, she was exceptionally gentle—almost too gentle. Hoping for more, Clarke eagerly swiped at Lexa’s lips, gained entry with her tongue and drove in only to be met by more softness. They kissed and kissed. Explored each other’s mouths when Clarke threw a leg high around Lexa’s waist, squeezed Lexa tight and ground into her stomach. 

 

Though the air was chilly, the space within the sleeping bag was getting hot and heavy and cramped. Clarke sat up to straddle Lexa and tossed the sleeping bag off her shoulders, then automatically reached for the hem of her sleep shirt and pulled it over head. It caused Lexa to falter, hands pausing and words stumbling. 

 

“Clarke, wait—”

 

Clarke stopped immediately. The last time Lexa said those words Clarke was flinging a flaming marshmallow across the air. 

 

“Sorry, is this, not okay?” Clarke shrunk into herself and covered (scooped) her breasts with her arms. She doubted herself, doubted the situation, and panic rose. “Oh god, am I that drunk?” She can think of the story now and Raven telling it:  _ Remember when we took Clarke camping, she got drunk and assaulted Anya’s cousin?  _

 

“No—no, it’s—” Lexa’s eyes dipped down at Clarke’s cleavage and she swallowed, thick and heavy, “—oh god… fine. I just… it’s been a while… for me, deployed and all, and um—” Lexa’s eyes dropped again and it was as if she was fighting an internal war. “I just wanted to make sure neither of us do something we might regret.”

 

Clarke was shocked by the turn of events, not expecting Lexa to be anything other than confident. But to see Lexa like this, so vulnerable and unsure, Clarke melted. 

 

“I’m sure, Lexa.”

 

“Okay, ‘cause I just wanted to um—” Lexa’s eyes struggled to stay focused; Clarke smirked. “I don’t normally do… this… casual type thing with anybody, unless that’s what you’re looking for, which is fine, um, too.” Lexa was tripping over her words, stammering even, and Clarke found it incredibly adorable. Lexa Woods, Navy SEAL and the woman who had dropped her towel without batting an eyelash, dismantled by Clarke’s cleavage. 

 

“Lexa.” Clarke let go of her boobs and Lexa’s eyes fell with them. Awed. She cradled Lexa’s face. “Shut up and fuck me.”

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

Apparently that was the assurance Lexa needed; she immediately leaned forward and took Clarke’s nipple into her mouth, cupping the remainder of her breast, kneading and massaging. 

 

“Mmf—fuck.” Clarke bite her lip at the sensation, stifling her moan and struggled to maintain a semblance of discretion with Lexa’s mouth on her tit. Already, Clarke began to fantasize about Lexa’s mouth in other places. Slowly, Lexa kissed her way across Clarke’s chest to give the other equal attention, sucking and rolling her tongue over and over. Clarke’s hands knotted in Lexa’s hair and she pressed her face in it, inhaling a deep breath of Lexa before urging her up for another kiss. It was then Clarke realized Lexa was still fully clothed and she grasped at the cotton material, tugging it. “Off.” Lexa obeyed like a trooper, slipped her shirt overhead and pulled them flush. 

 

Lexa’s skin was like fire and Clarke submersed herself in it. “God, you’re  _ so warm. _ ” 

 

“Told you I run warmer,” Lexa murmured, not skipping a kiss. She raked Clarke’s back a few times, sending chills in all directions before bringing both hands affront to thumb over Clarke’s nipples. Alternating pinches and rolls that had Clarke’s arousal pooling in her underwear. Finally, Lexa dropped a hand and slid it under her waistband. She cupped at Clarke’s center, gave her some resistance to grind though Clarke was sure enough she was so wet that Lexa could easily slip in. 

 

“Mm… Lexa…” Clarke ground and ground, insistent, trying hard to keep quiet. Although, if Lexa didn’t go inside soon, she was sure to orgasm from the contact alone, but to Clarke’s disappointment, Lexa withdrew. “Wha—”

 

“Can I go down on you?” 

 

_ Fuck yes.  _

 

Instead of answering, Clarke reached for Lexa’s wrist, brought her wet, pruned fingertips to her lips and licked herself clean from Lexa’s fingers, one digit at a time. Lexa was mesmerized; jaw slack and eyes blown. And when Clarke was finished, she leaned in a kissed Lexa’s with lots of tongue. Lexa moaned deep into Clarke’s kiss, receiving a teasing taste before Clarke granted her permission. “Yes.” It came out in a mere whisper.  

 

Unhinged, Lexa held Clarke at the waist and rolled them around in an instant. Clarke yelped at the sudden change of positions, caught off guard but cushioned by Lexa’s strength. Lexa said nothing, descended directly between Clarke’s legs and yanked her bottoms down in a single motion and Clarke kicked them far across the room. 

 

Lexa dropped kisses at first, slow and sloppy, licking at the edges before landing on Clarke’s clit. It was a gradual immersion and Clarke sank  _ deep. _ “Oh my god…” 

 

Lexa’s mouth. Warm and wet and soft. Clarke fisted Lexa’s hair in one hand, the sleeping bag in the other as Lexa started gradual patterns over her clit. Sure, it had been a while since Clarke had sex, but this was seemingly the best she’d ever had. She was dying to scream, constantly chewing on her lip, whining and whimpering. She was already on edge and fighting to not come too soon—worried about more embarrassing stories if Raven ever caught wind. But Lexa was making that impossible. She sped up and sucked harder. 

 

“Lex—fuck, I’m—”

 

Clarke was flung from space. Erupted hard into Lexa’s mouth and to her own surprise, kept going. Legs shaking and body quivering. Lexa was sucking her dry until Clarke’s body froze, then slumped. 

 

She expected Lexa to crawl up and Clarke focused on regaining her composure to repay the gesture, but Lexa stayed down. Kissed and pecked at her inner thighs, leaving light marks when Clarke registered fingertips teasing at her folds. They would swipe up-and-down and up-and-down, barely making contact at all until Lexa pushed a single finger in, then withdrew completely. Again. And again. They established a rhythm until Clarke was wet and ready all over again. Finally, Lexa sunk all the way in a stayed, filling Clarke deep and full. Lexa held still while she kissed her way back up to Clarke’s lips.

 

“S’okay?” The gentleness in her ask had Clarke melting. 

 

“God yes.” Clarke nodded with her answer and hugged Lexa close. “So good…” 

 

“Good.” Lexa began an easy pump, kissing in sync with their movements and Clarke’s sure she’s never had such good “first-time” sex. Usually it always took a few months—at least—to establish a rhythm with a partner, but Lexa defied all of that. They moved together, held and released hands, kissed and panted in cadence. Lexa’s mouth rediscovered a nipple and when Lexa brought her free hand to capture the other, it sent Clarke into her second orgasm of the night. She unraveled underneath Lexa and this time Clarke couldn’t maintain her silence; she turned, buried her face into the pillow and screamed. 

 

Clarke must have blacked out because it took her several minutes to come to, opening her eyes to a brilliant green despite the darkness of the cabin. Immediately, they were back to kissing. Back to Lexa’s irresistibly plump lips and smooth tongue. It was a slow, perfect, post-orgasm make out and Clarke could taste remnants of herself. Soon, she yearned to have Lexa directly in her mouth and Lexa put up no resistance when Clarke wrapped a leg around Lexa to roll them back around. 

 

Gradually, Clarke descended to return the favor, stopping to kiss, suck, and play at Lexa’s nipples first, which had Lexa squirming under her; something Clarke never imagined being able to do. Her first impression of Lexa was so steeled. A hard woman with a hard body, sharp eyes and daresay, ruthless. Because at the end of the day, Lexa was a trained killer. But, here, now, Lexa fell pliant to Clarke’s touch, fisted Clarke’s hair with a certain tenderness. Raked and massaged Clarke’s shoulders as she traveled further south until she reached the apex of Lexa’s legs. Her mouth watered. Lexa shimmered with need and Clarke felt grateful to be the one giving it to her. Service to country, right? Slowly, Clarke planted a gentle kiss and Lexa shivered, tightened her grip in Clarke’s hair, and moaned. 

 

“Oh shit...” 

 

Clarke kissed her, harder this time and Lexa melted in her mouth. Pressing on, Clarke made languid work of the woman before her. Licked, swirled, and sucked with eyes flitting up to watch the gorgeous specimen writhe. Clarke ran her palm across Lexa’s abs, up to her breasts, and back down to her thighs, taking mental picture after picture. She never wanted to forget this moment. Circumstantially, this was surely a one-night stand situation. Lexa was bound to return to her duties, deploy to some foreign country, and Clarke wanted to memorize the time she slept with the hottest woman she’d ever met. And god it was turning her on again; Clarke could feel her arousal dripping and smearing between her legs. 

 

Lexa’s legs wrapped and curled around her head, flexing with each pass of Clarke’s tongue. Her moans increased and Clarke wished they weren’t within such close earshot of Raven and Anya. She wanted to hear Lexa scream her name, not just soft  _ Clarke’s _ and  _ fucks. _ So, Clarke quickened her pace and sucked harder—as hard as she could—and she got what she wanted. 

 

“Oh fuck! Clarke!” 

 

Lexa came undone, poured into her mouth and Clarke drank and drank. Savored the way Lexa’s clit twitched against her tongue, quivered against her face, and gripped her hair. Finally, Lexa slumped, panting hard and fast, licking her lips in satisfaction. She looked down at Clarke, smiled, and cupped Clarke’s face to urge her up. “Mm… c’mere,” Lexa murmured, and kissed Clarke. Full, hot, and heavy. Pulled Clarke onto her lap for a total embrace. Clearly, Lexa didn’t require any recovery time, eager to please Clarke again. 

 

/

 

It was broad daylight when Clarke opened her eyes. A bright beam of sunlight was hitting her face and Clarke slowly woke with a comfortable weight on her stomach. Looking down, Clarke recognized Lexa’s messy mane splayed across her belly. They must have fallen asleep in the early, early morning. At least three or four A.M. Many, many, orgasms later. 

 

Clarke smiled and gently carded her fingers through Lexa’s hair. Lexa stirred, inhaled a deep breath, and turned to look up at Clarke with a matching smile. 

 

“Mm—good morning, Clarke.”

 

“Morning.”

 

Peaceful silence as Clarke continued to play with Lexa’s hair. Unfortunately, that peace and silence didn’t last long with the click of the front door. 

 

“Hey, fuckers!” Raven. “Get up, it’s almost noon. We were supposed to head out to the lake an hour ago.”

 

“Mph…” Clarke palmed her face, mostly to hide from the sun, but also, it was  _ too _ early for Raven. “Fuck off!”

 

“So I take that as a no?” Raven replied. 

 

“Just go ahead without us,” Lexa said, getting in on the conversation, then crawled up and nuzzled a kissed into Clarke’s neck. “We’ll meet you there.” 

 

“Okay…” Raven said, skeptical of Lexa’s last statement, and closed the door. 

 

While Raven started the car, wheels cracking on the pebbled dirt road, Lexa continued pressing kisses around Clarke’s neck, along her collarbone, and up her jawline. What a  _ wonderful _ way to wake up. 

 

“Clarke.” Kiss. 

 

“Mm?”

 

“So when we get back to the city—you think I could take you out sometime? For dinner?”

 

Clarke smiled. “Yeah—I’d love that. Although, don’t you have to go back to work? And, you know, deploy and stuff?”

 

“Yeah, but not for another few months. We’re allowed to have lives.”

 

“But then, what happens when you—you know, deploy?”

 

“Then I go.” Kiss. “For a few months, and then I come back.” Kiss.

 

“Oh. Do you always come back?”

 

“Always .” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so patient for the remainder of this fic. The large time gap between chapters was definitely not intentional, and, as we all know, life happens. For me (thessclexa), I had a recent death in the family. Further, on a bit more positive note, I was offered my dream job, which I happily accepted, but also requires me to uproot and move in the next few months. This was an unexpected move, so bear with me as I try to get my life together. 
> 
> Also, alexiarexia is still on a writing break. Special thanks for being so patient and understanding. Thank you again and I hope you enjoyed the fic!


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